


Blame It On The Alcohol

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College Student Stiles, Drunk Derek Hale, Drunk Dialing, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, References to Knotting, Sexual Fantasy, mentioned bottom Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 01:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13730460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: Stiles gets a very interesting late-night phone call from Derek.





	Blame It On The Alcohol

**Author's Note:**

> This fic took two weeks longer to finish than I thought it would, but I’m happy it’s done! Inspired by this anon prompt: Drunk Derek calling Stiles in midnight (or 3am ?) to say "I want to knot you and breed you full"? (I don’t do breeding kink, but I wrote the other half!)

Stiles is finally home for summer break, and enjoying staying up until 3am because he _wants_ to, not because he has a four-page research paper to finish. He’s been spending the night IMing Scott (and texting him when he doesn’t respond back fast enough, because Stiles is impatient) and idly surfing the web. He hasn’t gotten a chance to see everyone yet, because Lydia is her usual busy self and is taking several summer classes, Isaac is on an out of town trip with _Danny_ of all people, and Derek—

His phone buzzes loudly on his desk right then, startling him as he hurriedly tries to scoop it up. He nearly drops it twice in the process, then almost drops it _again_ when he sees whose name is on the caller ID.

“Derek?” Stiles says cautiously when he answers, because he’d only talked to Derek once in the week he’s been back, and Derek had seemed kind of standoffish. It’s also really late, and he figures Derek would have brooded his way into bed by now.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek says, and Stiles’ spine stiffens in shock at the low, warm tone of his voice.

“Derek,” Stiles repeats, because his brain has gone temporarily offline. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Mmm,” Derek says, and that could be an agreement or a random moan, but Stiles is afraid to think about that too much. “Been drinking some wolf-shine. Feels good.”

Despite the situation, Stiles finds himself rolling his eyes. He doesn’t know who came up with that dumb name for alcohol that can get werewolves drunk, but he’s super annoyed that it _stuck_. “You must’ve had quite a bit,” he says inanely, because Derek’s voice is relaxed enough to be slurring a little.

“Yeah,” Derek breathes, and Stiles hears his stubble crackle briefly against the receiver. “Been thinking about you. Been thinking about you _too much_.”

“What?” Stiles says. Derek’s hardly even seen him, surely he hasn’t really—

“Want you,” Derek cuts in breathily. “In my bed, want you to be my mate. _Mine_.”

Stiles tries to say something, but he has no idea where to even _begin_.

“I’ll lay you out on my sheets and lick you open, slide my fingers inside until you’re aching for more,” Derek rumbles out. “And it’ll be so good when I fuck you, fill you up with my knot and feel you all around me.”

He lets out a quiet moan then, breathing heavier, and it sends an electric thrill through Stiles. He doesn’t want to talk at all now, doesn’t want to distract Derek from what he’s saying, and just presses the phone harder against his ear. He can’t miss a thing.

“Or maybe,” Derek says, suddenly sounding sweetly pleased. “Maybe you’re already ready for me, and you just climb on onto my lap, put my hands on your hips, and you kiss me as you inch your way down—”

He cuts off then with another soft, aroused noise, and Stiles feels heat crawl through him when he pictures exactly what Derek is doing. He gulps and then has to pant as quietly as he can as Derek keeps going.

“And you’d feel so good around me, telling me how much you want this as you start to move. I’d move too, pushing into you deep and slow at first, but eventually you’d tell me to stop teasing you. So I’d speed up, and then stroke you until you came, so that when I knotted you,” Derek gasps, sounding wrecked now, “it’d feel good. And you’ll _want_ to be tied to me.”

Stiles closes his eyes then, feeling his whole body thrum, because he’s never heard Derek say anything like this before, and it’s _the hottest thing ever_.

“ _Ah_ , and I’d hold your hips down tight against mine, because _mmmm_ I could feel it starting,” he gasps, and now Stiles can hear the rapid, desperate slide of skin against skin, the rustling sound of Derek moving against his sheets, and feels his thighs clench with empathy. “And _oh,_ I’d start to swell inside you, and it’d feel perfect, _complete_ —”

He breaks off into a series of breathy moans interspersed with words of praise, building faster and faster as he finally comes with a loud, heartfelt—

The phone goes absolutely silent, and Stiles yanks it away from his face to stare at it in betrayal. _Call Disconnected_ it says, and it takes Stiles’ arousal-addled brain a second to realize that Derek either hung up on him, or his phone died.

_Fuck_.

He tosses it on his desk, then looks down to see his cock tenting out his pajama pants a ridiculous amount, a little wet spot forming at the tip. He’s so turned on he’s pulsing with it, and he wishes he could somehow teleport to Derek’s place and just rub off on him, bury his face against Derek’s neck and come with him pressed tight against Stiles.

He can’t, though, and he’s so close he can barely move, so he carefully peels down the pants and wraps a hand around himself. He hisses a little because it feels so good, thighs spreading and hips canting up automatically.

He slips his other hand behind him, presses a finger against his hole and circles it, imagining Derek’s cock beginning to push inside him. He rocks his hips down as he strokes himself off quick and dirty, and the images of Derek _getting off while thinking about fucking him_ mean it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing up into his hand and coming hard.

He works himself through the aftershocks for a long time, and realizes when he opens his eyes that he’s slid halfway out of his chair and made a mess of his shirt.

And despite the orgasm, he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to stop thinking about Derek.

Fuck.

 

*

 

Stiles takes a shower and heads over to the loft early the next morning, mostly because he can’t sleep anymore.

When he rolls open the door, Derek is awake but still looking a little hungover. But with werewolf healing, Stiles knows that won’t last for long.

“Sorry if you tried to call me,” he says, scratching sleepily at his stubble. “My phone died while I was drinking last night.”

“No, _I_ didn’t call _you_ ,” Stiles says pointedly. “But last night you called me and told me how much you wanted to knot me, while jerking off.”

Derek comes fully and hilariously awake at that, looking at Stiles with abject shock. “Oh my god, I’m so—”

“No, no, no, it was good, it was actually really hot,” Stiles says quickly, interrupting Derek’s attempted apology. “And I know you were pretty, um, drunk, but it seemed like you had thought about it a lot. And _I’ve_ certainly thought about it a lot, all of it, in every way possible, so if you maybe wanted something between us outside of fantasies, well—”

He cuts off his nervous ramble then and just waits, eyes on the flush rising on Derek’s cheeks.

“I really wish I remembered last night,” Derek starts, looking embarrassed. “But I feel like you got the impression that I was only interested in sex. And obviously I _do_ want that, but I also want more than that. With you.”

He looks almost shy now, and Stiles really just wants to give him a hug. And he understands where Derek’s coming from—though they’re both clearly interested sex, they haven’t even _kissed_ yet. They both need a little time to figure things out before they get too hot and heavy.

Stiles grins. “While I’m definitely into some passionate werewolf sex with you, I think right now maybe you need some breakfast more. We can have our first date at the diner, what do you say?”

Derek smiles, warm and pleased. “I’d love that. We can go somewhere for lunch, too.”

 

*

 

(So they go on two dates, then end up living out some of Derek’s fantasies later that night. It’s amazing.)   

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
